


Paying Attention

by Descarada



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, Geralt gets sick from potions and Jaskier takes care of him, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Rimming, Service Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Sick Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/pseuds/Descarada
Summary: The only plot here is these two dummies seeing more in each other than the world does and falling madly in love.----“What I want to know is,” Jaskier continued. “has anyone ever...taken care of you?”“Taken care of me? Of course. That’s what I pay for after all,” answered Geralt.“No, no. I don’t mean orgasm.” said Jaskier. “I mean. Taken care of you.  Taken you.  Have you ever utterly surrendered?”“You and your pretty words,” said Geralt. “Be plain, Jaskier.”Jaskier said.  “Fine. Has anyone ever fucked you until your toes curled?”Geralt was still and thought a moment before he answered. “That isn’t usually what people want from me.”“Yes, but people are tragically unimaginative.  No one is only one thing. Least of all you.”“I suppose that’s true,” answered Geralt.-----
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 201
Kudos: 1523
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette, Just.... So cute...





	1. There's Only One Way to Find Out

People made a lot of false assumptions about Jaskier.

That he was vapid. Vain. 

Ok yes, he _was_ vain. 

But he wasn’t vapid. He was canny. No one could spot a con like Jaskier, whether from a thief or a lord.

People also assumed that Jaskier was self centered and therefore oblivious to the complexities of other people. Quite the contrary. Yes, Jaskier loved being the center of attention. He spoke loudly and often. He wore costumes that stood out in taverns like a peacock being forced to board with a brood of common farm chickens. But oblivious to others? Hardly. 

Jaskier was a poet, and poetry cannot be written by someone who isn’t paying attention. The poet is a prism that takes in a beam of pure life and then casts out radiant interpretations. Observation is what lets in the beam.

Jaskier was also a performer, and performers must instantly sense whether an audience is disinterested, sad, or itching to celebrate. They must hone that skill swiftly or go hungry.Jaskier could therefore sense and respond to emotions like a weather vane responds to a breeze. 

Jaskier could be loud  and still pay attention. He could be emotionally self indulgent while still responding to the feelings of others.He could do it all. And when Jaskier met Geralt, the witcher received the full force of the bard’s attention.

The moment Jaskier met Geralt he had been instantly enamored. How could a _poet_ of all people resist a brooding mystery man in black leather who smelled of death and destiny? Of heroics and heartbreak? The answer was simple. He couldn’t. The witcher yanked his chain and opened him like a drawbridge. 

Jaskier also noticed Geralt’s delicate but angular features. His solid, coiled physique. However, even after he attached himself to Geralt and shared in his travels, he never considered trying to seduce the witcher. Well, actually that might be overselling it. He considered and rejected the idea on a semi regular basis. But he kept deciding that he was content to only observe the view, despite how criminally attractive it was. 

That fact flew in the face of another assumption made about the bard. People often thought Jaskier was a slave to his own dick. That wasn’t true. He just usually agreed with his own dick. They were almost always on the same page. 

Yes, his liaisons often led to conflict and even violence. But it wasn’t that Jaskier couldn’t resist them, and therefore got into trouble. It was that he believed the trouble was well worth it, and therefore he had no desire to resist.  


The world was full of fascinating, attractive people with their own unique allure. What was this short brutish life for, if not for experiencing as wide a variety of them as possible? Why even live, if you aren’t willing to risk it all to live it fully?

But he wasn’t going to risk it with Geralt. Jaskier had quickly grown to treasure his new life. Yes, the ground was hard, the food perfunctory, and the monsters unfriendly to the extreme. But Jaskier wouldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of living and dying confined to your own tiny corner of the world...well...Jaskier couldn’t think of anything more depressing. More horrifying. No, he would see the world. He would sing about the world. This was living. 

Jaskier did his best to adjust to the rustic nature of the lifestyle. He learned how to fish, how to set up camp, and how to cook with food suitable for travel. And before long he began to feel competent and sure that this was his calling. At least for now. There was no reason to lose that. He had no problem getting his carnal needs met elsewhere while also keeping his new life intact. 

Before long, their friendship began to blossom, despite Geralt having the emotional shell of a fossilized turtle. Jaskier knew that with people like Geralt, people who had lived rough and unforgiving lives, there was no shortcut to earning their trust.Yes, Jaskier was good with words. But to someone like Geralt, words were meaningless. Jaskier knew he had to be reliable and trustworthy over and over again. So he was.

With time he noticed Geralt grunted at him less and talked to him more. Laughed louder and longer at his jokes. His silences grew more comfortable. Companionable. Slowly but surely, Geralt also began to rely on him more. Jaskier started helping him with things like negotiating deals, collecting coin, and caring for Roach. 

“I’m irrepressible,” Jaskier said one night.

“Is that a pretty way of saying no one can get rid of you?” asked Geralt. 

But he gave Jaskier a friendly thwack on the shoulder when he said it. They had indeed come a long way from that punch to the balls on the day they met. 

The time passing didn’t lessen Jaskier ’s fascination with the witcher.In fact, it grew. At first glance, Geralt was straightforward. Kill monsters, collect coin, keep emotional entanglements at a minimum. But Jaskier saw more. Much more. And Geralt’s small actions added up to a more complex picture.

Like when Geralt lurched awake at the crack of a twig and pulled a sword, almost in his sleep. He looked around, snuffled, and went back to sleep without a word. 

Like when Geralt struggled to dress his own wound.

“What?” he asked, unrolling a bandage with one hand.

“I offered to help,” Jaskier said.

“I’m fine,” said Geralt. 

“Suit yourself.”

Another day, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice that the witcher had fallen more silent. But it wasn’t his normal easy silence. It was a silence so heavy it dragged. So bitter it couldn’t be swallowed. Geralt had just killed a monster in the blue mountains, but not before it had killed a villager. 

“You can’t save them all, Geralt,” Jaskier said gently.

“Hmmmm.” (*fuck)

These unadorned moments were puzzle pieces slotting into place for Jaskier.

Another thing Jaskier learned in his travels with Geralt was that most people were wary of the witcher at best. Frightened of him at worst.It surprised Jaskier. It actually never stopped surprising him.The day Jaskier had seen Geralt in that tavern in Posada he’d felt nothing but awe. But most people looked at Geralt and saw a killer...someone they needed to sidle past and keep away from their women. They needed Geralt’s services to be sure. But they looked at him and saw a mutant. Some saw him as little more than an animal.

It was utterly confounding. They didn’t see the classic jawline? The unbelievable ass? That pleased, dumb little look Geralt got on his face when he made a joke, no matter how fleeting or cliche the punchline? 

Not that everyone was afraid of him of course. There were people who would give a right arm to fuck the witcher. But just when Jaskier’s faith in the good sense of the human race was returning, he realized that what most people saw in Geralt was the thrill of danger. The allure of the other. The exotic.

One day Jaskier entered a shop in Erlenwald and overheard some women in the back talking about Geralt.

“Did you see the witcher?”

“Such a brute looking fellow.”

“I heard he stabbed a dragon.”

“I know something else he can stab.”

“Tamia!”

“Come on, cousin! Don’t you ever want to be at the mercy of a man who’s more animal than man? Be thrown over his shoulder and carried away to a cave or something?”

Jaskier cleared his throat, and the women scurried out to sell him bread.

\----

Then two nights later in Sodden, a man was bold enough to approach Geralt in a tavern. Geralt and Jaskier were sitting at the bar with a map spread out in front of them. Geralt was teaching Jaskier about the various climates and routes. 

The man had a mass of curls and an eager look. “This is your man?” he asked Geralt, nodding in Jaskier’s direction.His eyes yearned.

“Hmmmm.” (*I don’t see why you care.) hummed Geralt, and continued to study the map.

The man just stood there like a dog waiting for permission to scarf down a treat. Jaskier felt a tiny prickle of an unfamiliar feeling. A feeling that told him to bare his teeth at the man and say ‘ _mine_.’It was irrational. Jaskier pushed it aside.Jaskier realized the man was still standing there, waiting for an actual verbal answer. They’d be old and gray before that happened. So the bard took pity.

“Just his friend.” answered Jaskier.

The man practically panted with joy. He squeezed his body in between Geralt and Jaskier, facing the witcher. Jaskier scooted away a bit and pretended to be engrossed in the map.

“Well then,” he heard the man practically coo. “I’ve been looking for a man who could properly dominate me. You look like the answer to my prayers.”

Geralt sat down his stein. He turned around on the stool to face the man, who quickly and boldly slotted himself between Geralt’s knees. Jaskier peeked a little and saw the witcher eyeing the man casually. Then Geralt got up and led the man out of the tavern by the hand. 

Jaskier figured Geralt would take the man to their room. He needed to give Geralt a reasonable amount of time to finish his liaison. So when Jaskier saw a man with a mischievous smile eyeing him across the bar, the bard smiled back and winked. And one thing lead to another. Soon, Jaskier was getting a sloppy blowjob in the alley from a lusty farmer. As Jaskier’s head thudded back onto the wall and he gripped the man’s head, Geralt’s face flickered into Jaskier’s mind eye. He allowed himself to picture Geralt there, on his knees, looking up at him face full of his cock. Geralt making those filthy slurping noises devouring him. Wanting him. He came instantly. 

When Jaskier crept back to the room, he called out before he opened the door. He needn't have worried. Geralt was already there and alone. The witcher had his back facing the door. The sheets were rumpled around him. The moon was rising and the rays slid across Geralt’s hewn form, casting shadows.The soft light made his white hair gleam. Jaskier entered quietly, but wooden slats creaked under his feet. Geralt twisted around and patted the bed next to him. Then Geralt turned his back again and settled into the pillow. 

It was common for friends to share beds when traveling. There was never enough accommodations in these towns. It shouldn’t have felt weird. But now that Jaskier had allowed himself that fantasy in the alley, lying that close to Geralt made him aware of the witcher’s warmth. How gently his body sloped down from his broad shoulders. How inviting the dips in Geralt’s back were. Trying not to think about it cost Jaskier so much energy that he lay awake for hours. 

It was the first time Geralt had fallen asleep before Jaskier. So the bard learned another new thing that night.Jaskier was dozing off when the bed jerked. He looked over at Geralt in alarm. But the witcher was still fast asleep.He mumbled and periodically erupted in frustrated noises.At first Jaskier wasn’t sure what to do. He sat up and just watched Geralt for a few moments.He didn’t want wake him up. Waking Geralt up abruptly could be deadly, especially from a nightmare.

But after being forced to dodge a few appendages, Jaskier touched Geralt’s arm with his fingertips as light as a breeze. When Geralt didn’t stir, Jaskier rubbed the witcher’s arm rhythmically and sang softly. He sang a song he’d had in his head all day. It seemed soothing. It was about a woman who lived on the coast and tended a fairy garden.In response, Geralt’s breathing evened out and he fell deeper into sleep. Jaskier’s touch and voice had calmed the witcher. 

Jaskier knew his voice made people feel things. That was his entire reason for being a bard.Joy, lust, sentimentality.It was heady to see himself affect people. To put out energy and have others absorb it, have it trickle through them and make them think of lost love, or a lusty conquest.

But he’d never felt this powerful.He only had to sing, and a man who had seen more violence, more killing, than Jaskier could imagine, found peace.

—————

A few days later, Geralt and Jaskier were in Cintra. The town council had offered Geralt a decent reward for a werewolf that had picked off a few villagers on the outskirts of town. They had just arrived to town and found lodgings for Roach.The stable owner was a courteous but weary man with a salt and pepper beard. He’d shown them to a stall and then left them.

Geralt was untying the packs from Roach’s worn saddle. Jaskier had grabbed a bucket and was fetching water for the mare with a rusty old water pump. Traveling with Geralt and Roach, Jaskier sometimes felt like he’d married a man who came with children.Well, one large child.

He was carrying the bucket over to Roach when a man came around the corner of the stables and startled him.He was a wiry young man with a crease between his eyes. When he locked his eyes onto Geralt, the crease became a steep valley. 

“I heard you were here, mutant.” he hissed. “But I had to see it with my own eyes.”

Jaskier recoiled at the word mutant. Perhaps Geralt was technically a mutant but he was also a man. And it was extremely telling which of those things people chose to single out for attention. Geralt was unbuckling Roach’s saddle. He looked up at the man, and when recognition failed to dawn, he returned his focus to Roach and ignored the stranger completely. Geralt tended to ignore people like that. Notwithstanding the sword hilt, the young man was basically defenseless.Geralt didn’t fight defenseless people. 

Jaskier did though. He had just laid eyes on this man and already wanted to put a foot up his ass.The bard straightened and walked in front of the man, forcing him to shift focus. “Oi. What in the bloody hell do you want? The sheepfucker’s festival isn’t until next week.” Jaskier said. “But you should come back then, because you definitely look like a contender.” 

The man shifted to look past Jaskier and continued to speak directly to Geralt. He was _ignoring_ Jaskier. And if there was one thing that rankled Jaskier mightily, it was being _ignored_. 

“We don’t need you to kill a werewolf, witcher. You aren’t the only man with a sword.” The man rubbed his sword hilt and shifted. He was ill at ease and clearly spoiling for a fight.

Geralt finished unbuckling the saddle. He slid it free then turned his back to the man to hang it on a hook. Jaskier however, was thoroughly assessing the stranger.The man was perhaps eighteen and that was a generous estimation. So, not much younger than Jaskier. He was wearing an etched breastplate that looked decorative. His scabbard was smooth and unscratched. His sword hilt gleaming.Jaskier wondered what kind of moron would attack a witcher with a tool he’d barely used. 

Jaskier stepped closer to the man, lining himself up again in his line of vision.“I don’t believe you know how to use a sword.” The bard said, hands on hips. “You obviously gave yourself that lamentable haircut with a rusty serrated blade.But other than that.” 

“We don’t want you here,” continued the man, looking at Geralt. His voice was almost a shout now. “This town has decent folk.”

Jaskier presumed this man wanted the reward money, but he couldn’t imagine this high strung man squaring off with a werewolf.Geralt had the stolid confidence of a century old monster hunter, and even he had to exert himself mightily to take down a werewolf. 

Well, this moron wouldn’t even live to track the thing if he pulled out his sword and forced Geralt to act. Jaskier didn’t want that. He didn’t want Geralt to have to kill this kid. It would put the witcher in a shitful, morose mood. Probably lead to more nightmares. The thought infuriated Jaskier, so he stepped closer yet.

“The witcher’s been hired by the town council, so he’ll stay. But you can fuck right the fuck off,” he said, flicking his hand in the direction of _away_. 

  
“Well.” The man continued. “A pox on the town council. Inviting a known murderer here to drain our public coffers.” Jaskier noticed the man squeeze his sword hilt tighter, whitening his knuckles. Oddly, taunting him wasn’t serving to deescalate the situation.Jaskier shifted tactics.

“You’re misinformed, my agitated friend,” said Jaskier. “The witcher is a peaceful man. He acted in self defense in Blaviken. Those men died exactly as they lived. By the sword.”

The man tried to shove past Jaskier and lunge towards Geralt. Jaskier felt a surge of rage and he grasped the man by the arm, spinning him around to face him.

  
“I don’t know why you want him. I’m the one you should be afraid of,” Jaskier said, threat in his voice.

“Unless you’re a filthy mutant too, I’m not bothered,” said the man, shaking his arm loose. That was like pouring gas on Jaskier’s anger.

“Turn around and leave, or you’ll regret it,” Jaskier said.

“You aren’t even wearing a sword,” said the man, nodding to Jaskier’s belt.

“I don’t need a sword. And yours isn’t going to help you.” 

“I think it’ll work just fine,” the stranger said. Now he was paying attention to Jaskier. In fact he was in his face.Jaskier didn’t flinch. He drew a menacing voice from the bowels of his most petty inclinations.  


“You think a sword is scary?” Jaskier seethed. “ A sword is obvious. Predictable. Try me. Make me angry. You’ll walk away from here thinking you’ve gotten out with your skin. But I don’t forget.And I wait until you sleep.I’ll sabotage your plow, and one day you’ll be out tilling your field and one of the blades will come loose and slice off a limb. You’ll bleed out alone in your field.

“I’m not afraid of you,” said the man. But he sounded a little off kilter. Confused maybe.Jaskier pressed harder. 

“Or you’ll get halfway through your silo of grain and learn it’s poisoned when you’re coughing up bile. Or you’ll be eating the last crumbs of a shepard’s pie and you’ll realize your dog is missing.”

The man stepped back. “You’re mad.” But before he could step back further Jaskier had a knife to his throat.

“I truly am.”

The man shrieked. “I thought you said you were peaceful.” 

“No, I said he’s peaceful,” said Jaskier, jerking his head in Geralt’s direction. He pressed the knife tighter to accentuate his point.

“I, however, am not. I could twitch my wrist right now and open this vein and you’d bleed out in seconds.”

Jaskier noticed that Geralt wasn't intervening. He had paused brushing Roach and was watching and, was that affection? In his half smile? 

The man who rented them the stable appeared around the corner. He waved angrily at the young man. 

“Get out Simon. Stop causing trouble. These are my paying customers. I’ll go get your father.”

Jaskier dropped his arm and there was a white line on the man’s neck for a second before the blood rushed back. The man exhaled hard, blinked, then reached for his neck, rubbing it where Jaskier had held the knife.“Fine.” His voice trembled on the word. “But I’m going to take this up with the council.” And he turned on his heel and left. The stable owner lifted his hands in apology. Jaskier slid the knife back in its case in his belt.

“Sorry about him. He’s an ass,” said the stable owner. “He thinks he could kill the werewolf but he can barely get that sword out without stabbing his own balls.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt said and nodded to the man. The man apologized again and left,  leaving Jaskier and Geralt alone once more. 

Geralt stopped and regarded Jaskier.He looked thoughtful and his eyes crinkled as though considering a smile.

“What,” asked Jaskier, putting his hands back on his hips.

“Nothing.” Said Geralt.He moved to Roach’s other side and continued brushing there.

“I see you like the knife I bought you,” the witcher said, watching his own hands move the brush down Roach’s side. His eyes were twinkling.

Jaskier huffed. He was still irritated with the stranger. “It worked.” 

Geralt put down the brush and patted Roach. Then he walked towards Jaskier until his solid body and amber eyes were filling the bard’s field of vision. 

“I can’t have people thinking I gave you a knife but didn’t teach you how to use it,” said Geralt.

  
What did that mean?

Geralt reached to touch Jaskier and the bard instantly stilled.

Geralt placed his thumb at the center of Jaskier’s neck. He held it there. He was close enough now that Jaskier could smell the scent of warm leather and dry dust. He could also feel Geralt’s hand hovering, curving around the back of his neck.

“If you had cut him here, he would not have bled out in seconds as you threatened.” Geralt kept his thumb pressed lightly to Jaskier’s adam’s apple.Jaskier tried not to swallow but failed. “To bleed a man out instantly, you want the carotid artery.” Geralt then lightly dragged a hot line with his thumb to the side of Jaskier’s neck, just under his ear, cradling his neck with his hand.“It’s here,” he said. 

Jaskier wondered whether Geralt knew that when his rumbly voice was low, it sound like a purr. Then the witcher reached for Jaskier with his other thumb and touched the other side of his neck.“And here,” he said.He stood there for a moment like that, both hands curled softy behind Jaskier’s neck. It didn’t take much of a leap to picture Geralt drawing him in by the neck for a kiss.Jaskier envisioned himself sinking into the kiss. Geralt dropped his hands and turned back to Roach. He picked up a rag and began to polish the saddle that was hanging off of a hook. Jaskier had to concentrate on his next breaths. It would be embarrassing if they came out ragged.He cleared his throat.

“I just. I just hate how you can’t fucking relax a moment of your life,” Jaskier said.

Geralt shrugged as he rubbed circles onto the leather. “Hmmmm.” (*you and me both, bard) 

“Well,” said Jaskier.He rubbed his hands together to still them, barely noticing that they had been trembling in the first place.“I hope that’s all the friends you have in Verden.”

“If not, I doubt they’ll show their faces,” said Geralt. “Not once word gets around that I have my very own attack bard.”

“Good,” said Jaskier. 

“You’ll become as feared as I am,” said Geralt, said fondly.Yes. It _was_ affection.

“I hope they do fear me. Then you’ll have fewer morons to deal with,” Jaskier groused.

Something about Geralt’s words poked at him like a thorn he didn’t notice until it was halfway into his foot. ‘ _As feared as I am._ ’Anger spiked again. He whirled around. Geralt wasrubbing the saddleand he looked at Jaskier and blinked a bit. That was the extent of Geralt’s startle response when he was awake.

Jaskier snorted and paced the stall. Geralt watched him carefully.

“You’re not even scary.You snore like a disgruntled goat and you have a horse for a best friend.” He gestured towards Roach.

Geralt lifted his eyebrows and nodded as if to say “ _that’s fair_.”

Jaskier continued. He was on a roll.

“Yes, you’re deadly. But you only come when they call and you only kill what they ask you to.They know you aren’t a murderer. They’re just idiots.Idiots!”

Jaskier threw his arms out and turned around.Maybe this is what people meant when they said he was dramatic. Whatever, he didn’t care. 

“They see something different, and instead of being fascinated by it, instead of being in awe of its unique beauty—” One of his hands gestured slightly in Geralt’s direction— “they get angry. The abject lack of imagination is contemptible.”

Geralt chuckled and shook his head as he wiped his hands on the cloth. Jaskier was making him do that more lately. Chuckle. And every time he did, Jaskier felt like he had a puddle where his heart was supposed to be.

Geralt tucked the cloth into a pocket.“You see, that’s why you’re my favorite poet,” he said, and hoisted one of the bags onto his shoulders.

Jaskier felt a grin unfurl on his face and he turned away to pick up the other bag before Geralt could see how red his ears were.

That night, Geralt and Jaskier rented a room with two separate beds.Jaskier decided that tonight he would keep himself awake on purpose. The thought of Geralt suffering nightmares alone and not getting any real rest..it bothered him. Jaskier had to admit that it bothered him. So instead of sleeping, he composed songs in his head.When he began to doze, he’d pinch himself or blink rapidly.

Eventually, he heard Geralt’s breathing slow. Jaskier continued to keep himself awake.He shook his legs. Fiddled with his fingers. Whatever it took. And sure enough, he soon heard a muffled thump against the mattress. Then another. Then Geralt made a strangled noise. It was starting again.Jaskier wondered if this happened every night.He swung his legs off of his narrow bed and padded over to Geralt.Jaskier climbed up onto the witcher’s bed, taking care not to invade his space. Geralt’s bed was bigger, so Jaskier could comfortably lay several inches away. 

Geralt shook again. He swung one arm and smacked Jaskier on the chest.Jaskier let out a quiet ooof. Even when swinging his arms unheedingly, Geralt packed a wallop. Jaskier gently shrugged off Geralt’s arm and put it back by the witcher’s side. Then he reached out and began stroking the witcher’s arm the same way he had the night before. Cupping his shoulder, then running his hand down his arm gently. Then again, and again in slow rhythm. It was like petting a sleeping tiger.He felt Geralt’s arm ease under his touch. The bard chose the most soothing song he knew to sing. It was about a man watching the wood nymph he loved nap by a creek. After being smacked a few times when Geralt’s body jerked, Jaskier was gratified to see the witcher relax in response to his touch and his voice. 

It was at that moment, after being pummeled by the unconscious witcher, that Jaskier realized it. He could resist Geralt’s legendary, almost mythical allure. He could even resist his strong forearms clutching Roach’s reigns around him.But this was not something he could resist.Geralt was like an untended garden. Rich soil left fallow. He was like a cream filled pastry. People ate the crust and left the cream.He wanted to eat the cream.Lap it up.Blow Geralt’s mind. Make him feel transcendent.

His cock hardened at the thought, so he quickly slid off of Geralt’s bed and returned to his own. He settled back under the covers and unbidden, his mind created a picture ofwhat Geralt would look like moaning. Undone. Open. Jaskier slid his hands down his pants and took his own cock in his hand. He rhythmically stroked himself as he pictured Geralt whispering his name. When he came into his fist, he stifled the sigh trying to fight its way out.Then he lay there panting softly in the quiet room. Dear sweet Melitele, he needed to fuck this man within an inch of his life. Would Geralt want that too? There was only one way to find out. 


	2. You Ready Bard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Verden, a tavern had chosen one of Jaskier’s rivals to provide the night’s entertainment instead of him.
> 
> “It’s absurd. His songs are passionless. Uninspired. Derivative.” He ranted. He stabbed his bread in the air in between bites. “His costumes are haphazard; he has no stage presence. Fucking honestly. What happened to having standards?” He chewed furiously.
> 
> Geralt normally just let him rant. But this time he chimed in, much to Jaskier’s surprise.
> 
> “Indeed.” said Geralt. “And wouldn’t the patrons prefer someone pleasant to look at?”
> 
> Jaskier lost then regained his composure in about two seconds flat. He managed to say, “Yes, well, witcher. Tragically, they aren’t all blessed with your impeccable taste.” 
> 
> Geralt chuckled and got up. He brushed his hands on his lap and held out a hand.
> 
> “We’d better get back on the road. You ready, bard?”

About a week later, Jaskier was waiting for Geralt outside a Verden brothel. He had yet to tip his hand about his desire for Geralt. So they were going about things as they normally did. The bard had been properly fucked by a curvy redhead in town and then he’d come by the brothel to meet Geralt. Geralt sometimes preferred a brothel. Not that the witcher couldn’t find partners in town. It just sapped his energy to be sociable after an exhausting hunt. Yes, Geralt was paying for sex but he was mostly paying to avoid small talk. Soon Geralt emerged and lifted himself onto Roach behind Jaskier.

They headed off, back on the road. Roach’s hooves clomped and they moved in rhythm. Geralt’s chest brushed Jaskier every time they bumped in the saddle. So the bard kept imagining what it would feel like to lick those delicious looking pecs. So he figured that was a sign. It was well past time to say something. Jaskier leaned back into the crook where Geralt’s neck met his shoulder. He felt Geralt twitch, then relax. Jaskier gave it a moment so Geralt could feel his hair brush him. Then he asked,

“So...what did you request today?” 

“What do you mean?” asked Geralt. Geralt was about Jaskier’s height but he was broader, so his body covered the bard’s back completely, heating him thoroughly.  
His stubbly jaw brushed Jaskier’s cheek as he spoke. Shivers ran down Jaskier’s legs.

“What did you ask for? At the brothel?” Jaskier answered.

Geralt grunted. “You do know what brothels are for, don’t you bard?”

“Yes, yes, but I need some specifics,” said Jaskier. He ran through scenarios, picturing Geralt in compromising positions.

“Why?” Asked Geralt.

“To satiate my desperate curiosity,” said Jaskier. That part was true.

“Fucking. Jaskier. I ask for fucking.” said Geralt.

Jaskier wasn’t going to let him get off (no pun intended) that easily. “Yes, but what kind?”

“How many kinds are there?” Asked Geralt. He sounded genuinely confused.

“Oooo my darling witcher,” said Jaskier, mirth and promise rang in his laugh.

Geralt cleared his throat. “You know what I mean. It’s pleasant but it's a business transaction. A necessity. I fucked her, I paid, and I left. Nothing creative.”

“Ok,” Jaskier said, and he lifted his head back up. He needed to lay the groundwork, and that was as good a start as any. They were talking about sex.

But a few seconds later, Geralt leaned forward into his back and spoke near his ear, “Though she did ask me to act out a fantasy. Said she’d give me a discount for it.”

“Oh do tell,” said Jaskier. Geralt sounded bewildered. This was going to be good.

“Eh. She wanted to pretend she was a farmer’s daughter. That I had slain a monster and her father couldn’t afford payment. That I ravished her for compensation.”

Jaskier laughed heartily and his back shook against Geralt. “Darling sweet witcher. That’s an exceedingly common fantasy people harbor for you.”

“What? Why? Do they think I’m a rapist?” asked Geralt. He sounded mildly alarmed.

“No. Of course not. It’s just fantasy. It’s just fun,” said Jaskier, waving his hand for emphasis.

  
Geralt shook his head. “Hmmmm.” (*interesting)

“Geralt. Can I ask you a question?”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Geralt. He only sounded a touch gruff. Actually he sounded affectionately gruff.

“No,” said Jaskier honestly.

“Very well, go ahead,” said Geralt.

“Speaking of sexual exploits, I want to know about yours.”

“Exploits? That’s a dramatization.” Said Geralt.

“My apologies, allow me to rephrase. I want to know all of the mundane boring shit you get up to with your dick.”

Geralt leaned forward and nudged his shoulder.

“Ow.” said Jaskier and clutched his shoulder. He couldn’t see Geralt but he knew he was rolling his eyes.

“What I want to know is,” Jaskier continued. “has anyone ever...taken care of you?”

“Taken care of me? Of course. That’s what I pay for after all,” answered Geralt.

“No, no. I don’t mean orgasm.” said Jaskier. “I mean. Taken care of you. Taken you. Have you ever utterly surrendered?”

“You and your pretty words,” said Geralt. “Be plain, Jaskier.”

Jaskier said. “Fine. Has anyone ever fucked you until your toes curled?” 

Geralt was still and thought a moment before he answered. “That isn’t usually what people want from me.”

“Yes, but people are tragically unimaginative. No one is only one thing. Least of all you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” answered Geralt.

This was the moment. Jaskier dropped his head once again onto Geralt’s shoulder. He turned his head until his lips were almost brushing Geralt’s ear. “I could take care of you.” Jaskier murmured. “I would eat you out and fill you up until you come apart. I would fuck you until you scream. You have no idea the things I could make you feel.” Then Jaskier lifted his head and watched the road. Geralt was quiet for a bit, which is what Jaskier had expected. Then he heard a

“Hmmmm.” (*?) behind him.

Normally Jaskier could interpret the witcher’s hmmmmms, but it was more difficult when he couldn’t see his face. Geralt had remarkably expressive eyebrows. Without the sight of them, it was a crapshoot.

But it was encouraging that the witcher hadn’t thrown him off the horse. They rode in comfortable silence for the rest of the day. When they arrived at camp, neither of them acted any differently. Jaskier wasn’t going to push anything. It was an offer that would never expire, so there was no hurry. They went about their evening the same way they always did, with no hint to what Jaskier had said.

After that, Jaskier didn’t broach the subject again. But Geralt seemed to be considering it. Over the next few days, Jaskier would catch Geralt watching him as he dressed or ate. He was used to being looked at. He was an entertainer after all. But when Geralt watched him like that, he felt not just seen, but revealed.

Geralt didn’t look away when he caught him staring. He’d lock eyes with him and seem like he was considering something. Then go back to whatever it was that he was doing. It was maddening but in a delicious way.

Also, the way Geralt watched him perform changed. Normally he only glanced up at Jaskier occasionally while he ate. Now the witcher watched him so intently that Jaskier got a wee bit nervous. But then he remembered he was Jaskier. So he proceeded to show off shamelessly. He threw winks Geralt’s way, and brushed him as he walked by singing. Once he even sat on Geralt’s lap and wriggled into him just a touch as he sang a particularly lusty lyric. It got a great reaction from the crowd. It got a positive one from Geralt too, unless the man had a sword in his pocket. 

Then, one day they were at a market. They needed essentials, but there was also art, luxury items, books, and so much more. Jaskier was taking his time admiring all of the wares. He stopped to browse a stall laden with jewelry. Geralt came over to stand beside him and watched as Jaskier tried on a ring (as though he required another one). Then Geralt reached for a string of silver pearls. The pearls gleamed like an oyster shell with a grey and blue haze. Geralt ran them between his thumb and fingers.

“You should get this one. Its the same color as your eyes,” Geralt said. He glanced at Jaskier and his gaze caught on him like thread. Jaskier forgot to breathe for just a heartbeat. Then Geralt let go of the pearls and walked away to the next stall. 

It wasn't the last time Geralt dropped hints, conscious or otherwise, that he was looking at Jaskier differently now.

On their way to Brokilon, they were sitting on a few large stones eating lunch along the road. It was a little overcast, but dry and manageable. And since they’d just been in a town, their food was still fresh. However, naturally, Jaskier was complaining. Back in Verden, a tavern had chosen one of Jaskier’s rivals to provide the night’s entertainment instead of him.

“It’s absurd. His songs are passionless. Uninspired. Derivative.” He ranted. He stabbed his bread in the air in between bites. “His costumes are haphazard; he has no stage presence. Fucking honestly. What happened to having standards?” He chewed furiously.

Geralt normally just let him rant. But this time he chimed in, much to Jaskier’s surprise.

“Indeed.” said Geralt. “And wouldn’t the patrons prefer someone pleasant to look at?”

Jaskier lost then regained his composure in about two seconds flat. He managed to say, “Yes, well, witcher. Tragically, they aren’t all blessed with your impeccable taste.”   
  
Geralt chuckled and got up. He brushed the crumbs off of his lap and held out a hand.

“We’d better get back on the road. You ready, bard?”

Jaskier grasped his hand and hoisted himself up.

“Ready, witcher.”

Geralt squeezed his hand before he let it go.

\------

Then, a day later in Cidaris a bartender who was sweet on Jaskier refused his payment for a beer. 

“She didn’t even let me pay for it!” said Jaskier.

They were sitting next to each other on barstools, both facing forward. Geralt didn’t even turn his head when he said “It’s your lips. ”

Jaskier unconsciously reached for his own lips. Then dropped his hand quickly.

“They always look like they’re pouting, bard. She probably felt the need to make you smile.”

At that Jaskier smiled like a waterfall in the sun. Geralt looked at him.

“Like that,” Geralt said. Then he resumed his drink. But as he drank down his ale with one hand, he stroked Jaskier’s thigh lightly under the bar with the other. Just once. 

Jaskier’s stomach did flips. This was going to happen. Wasn’t it?

Geralt wouldn’t tease. Right?

\---

They stayed in Cidaris for a few days. Jaskier was glad. He loved the coast. The salt breeze wafted through the streets and chased away the smell of garbage and piss. The crashing sound of the waves soothed tension Jaskier didn’t even know he carried. 

Geralt had been hired for a hunt. Jaskier usually accompanied him on hunts, but not today. Jaskier always tried to contribute coin to their travel costs and he’d secured a job too.  
  
That night, Jaskier performed in a rickety tavern clinging to the bluffs. The owner was an honest sort and the patrons were in a merry mood. They seemed especially amused by Fishmonger’s Daughter. Jaskier was finishing up the last notes of the song when the tavern door slammed open. People startled and turned their heads to look. Geralt stomped through the door. (And Geralt claimed not to be dramatic). Instantly, Jaskier knew that something was wrong.  
  
People skittered away from Geralt like a tide retracting. They cleared a large circular swath around the witcher. There were a few alarmed cries from the crowd. Others gawked. 

The witcher’s eyes gleamed marble black, and tendrils of inky black veins snaked out from his eyes in every direction. His skin was ashy and he was trembling and lurching. He was caked with mud and gods knew what else. Geralt’s gaze darted around the room desperately. He was looking for Jaskier. He locked eyes with the bard and there was pleading in the witcher’s eyes. Then he was gone back into the night, the door slamming behind him.  
  
Geralt’s witcher potions were essentially poisons. If Jaskier drank them he would be dead within the hour. But they enhanced Geralt’s senses and strength during a fight. He only used them if he anticipated a deadly challenge. He used them sparingly because though they didn’t kill Geralt, the toxins eventually had to drain from his system, leaving him sick and weak. And in that moment, he had looked for Jaskier. The trust he had earned from the witcher felt like a gift. He wouldn’t squander it.  
  
The people in the tavern were now returning to their seats and chattering loudly.   
  


_“What was that? Where was it going?”_

_”I should go check on my children.”_

Jaskier raised his voice. “Everything is fine, my good people. He’s hurt is all. I’ll take care of this. Just sit and drink!”

They’d rented a room at the inn across the street. Geralt was certainly headed there to recover. The bard was glad he’d had a bath prepared. But Geralt didn’t even look like he could crawl into it in his current state. Jaskier scrambled for his things and called to the tavern owner that he could pay him in the morning. Then Jaskier dashed out the door, shouting his thanks and farewell over his shoulder. He crossed the street and burst into the inn, feet pounding down the halls until he arrived at their room.  
  
He opened the door and saw Geralt slumped in the bath. His pain was laid bare in his ragged breathing and in the way he was gingerly holding his body. He sat cross legged in the bath. His hands were on his knees like he was struggling to hold himself vertical. He had managed to get off his shirt but not his trousers. His hair was filthy and stuck to his face, neck, and shoulders. Geralt looked up at Jaskier with his obsidian eyes. He looked utterly depleted. Jaskier’s heart cracked. He walked over to the tub and kneeled. Geralt wordlessly moved so that his back was to Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier put his hands on Geralt shoulders and rubbed gently. They were cold and bruised. Jaskier kissed the top of Geralt’s head.  
  
“It’s ok darling,” said Jaskier. “I’m here.” As those words left his throat, they felt right. They felt more right than any words he had ever spoken.  
  
Geralt’s teeth chattered. His shoulders quaked then stilled. Jaskier pushed back his sleeves then gently touched Geralt’s head, easing it back. He could see Geralt’s face now that it was angled at the ceiling. It was ashy and sheened in sweat. Jaskier leaned down and kissed his forehead. Jaskier felt it relax at the touch of his lips. Geralt closed his eyes. Jaskier kissed each velvety black eyelid. Geralt’s face slacked. Then Jaskier kissed each black tendril snaking out to the witcher’s temples, willing them to fade. He wiped the debris off Geralt’s cheeks gently.

Watching Geralt ease, eased something in Jaskier’s soul.  
  
Then Jaskier used an earthenware pitcher to trickle water over Geralt’s head. He placed his other hand on Geralt’s forehead, shielding his eyes from the water. The rivulets that escaped over his hand and down Geralt’s face looked like drops of rain on gray marble.  
  
Jaskier massaged soapy fingertips through Geralt’s hair, working the soap and water through it as twigs, clumps of mud, and even small pebbles fell to the floor and the bath water. He rubbed slow circles into Geralt’s scalp. Geralt had opened his eyes again. He was still panting and staring into the middle distance.

Then Jaskier picked up Geralts hands one at a time, wiping the muck off of his nails and pressing a kiss onto each finger.

“Jaskier,” said Geralt but it came out more like a croak.

“Don’t try to speak,” said Jaskier. “Just relax.”

Then, he slid his hands under Geralt's arms, urging him to stand up. Geralt responded. He gripped the sides of the bath and hauled himself up shakily.  
  
“There you go,” Jaskier whispered. “I’ve got you.” And he did.  
  
Jaskier unlaced Geralt’s wet muddy trousers and took them down. He poured more water over Geralt’s body until the muddy water ran clear. Then he helped Geralt step out of his pants and led him to the bed.  
  
“This way, darling. Let’s get you in bed.”  
  
When he was standing by the bed, Jaskier picked up a blanket and wrapped it around Geralt tightly.  
  
“That’s it,” whispered Jaskier as he tucked the blanket around him. “Hold onto that side.”  
  
Geralt didn’t say anything. His eyes were still glazed over and he was obviously exerting energy to simply move without falling. But he was responsive to Jaskier’s touch, doing whatever Jaskier’s hands urged him to do.

He maneuvered Geralt to lie down on the bed.  
  
“Just relax, love,” said Jaskier.

Then Jaskier opened the windows so the sound of the crashing waves could help calm the witcher. Then he pulled off his tunic, which was now sopping, and sat on the bed, pulling Geralt’s head into his lap. 

He stroked Geralt’s hair and face. 

“Shhhh.”

The witcher shook at times, and occasionally leaned over the bed and wretched. Jaskier cleaned up after him the first time, then put a bucket by the bed, which Geralt had to use two or three times. Each time Jaskier got up, he soon sat back down to cradle Geralt’s head again in his lap. When Geralt seemed to be done wretching, he groped for Jaskier’s hand, threaded their fingers, and and pulled it to his chest. He clutched Jaskier’s hand there like a child clutches a stuffed lamb.

Jaskier heard him whisper “Thank you” into their clenched hands.

Geralt fell asleep like that. Naked limbs tangled in sheets, clutching Jaskier’s hand. Wet hair draped over Jaskier’s lap. Jaskier sang the song about the napping wood nymph again.   
  
Eventually Jaskier slid down and laid next to Geralt, his hand still held tight by the witcher. He looked at Geralt’s curled up body and the love that he felt…well..he didn’t have anything to compare it to. It was singular.

Geralt didn’t have nightmares that night.  
  
The next morning Geralt’s eyes were softer than Jaskier had ever seen them. He stopped to fix Jaskier’s tunic collar before they left the room. He slid his fingers through Jaskiers hair, pushing it off his face.

“Ready bard?”

“Ready, witcher.”  



	3. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His words shocked Jaskier with pleasure. He willed himself to memorize exactly how he was feeling right then, so he’d never lose it. He almost didn’t want to breathe for fear of shattering it. But Geralt was only getting started.
> 
> He spoke as he wrapped his strong arms around Jaskier. “I didn’t want to lose you. Our friendship. It would be idiotic to drive away the man who protects me from rabid townsfolk”
> 
> Jaskier laughed. He felt high. Geralt leaned in for a small sweet kiss.
> 
> “I couldn’t drive away Roach’s favorite singer.” he said.
> 
> “Smart horse,” said Jaskier.
> 
> “Or the man who drives away my nightmares,” said Geralt more softly.
> 
> Jaskier’s eyes snapped to look at him. “You knew about that?”

After the toxins had left Geralt’s body, his skin still looked dull and ashen. He seemed shakier than usual.But during the course of the day on their ride to Gors Velen, the witcher seemed to be regaining his strength.

By the afternoon,his normal color had returned. Even the few light freckles that sat just below Geralt’s cheekbones reemerged. And every time the witcher lifted himself onto Roach’s saddle, he seemed more sure.Soon, he rode with his usual muscularity and confidence.

It made Jaskier’s heart swell to see it. Soon Geralt would be back to stomping around dramatically and telling the corniest jokes on the continent.

Actually Geralt soon seemed better than normal.Compared to his usual self he was downright chatty. He encouraged Roach over rough ground. He pointed out a mossy castle to Jaskier and described the horses that used to live there. Jaskier even caught him humming, and one of Jaskier’s songs at that. 

They arrived in Gors Velen in good spirits. Geralt sent Jaskier to rent a room while Geralt situated Roach. Jaskier encountered no difficulties doing so and before long he was facing an oak door, fiddling with a key in its lock. 

Things must have also gone smoothly for Geralt as well, because as Jaskier clicked the lock open, he heard footsteps behind him. Then felt an eager witcher’s body pressed up against him from behind. Geralt’s voice was in his ear, teasing. 

“I heard there was a feral little bard sneaking into one of the rooms up here.”

Jaskier’s flushed. He turned around to appraise Geralt. “Little?” He challenged.Jaskier was a half inch shorter than Geralt at most.

“I hear he’d sooner stab a man than look at him,” said Geralt, as he crowded closer, sliding a hand under Jaskier’s tunic, and slipping it around his bare waist. Geralt’s palms were callused from working with swords, but his fingers were soft. As they dragged across Jaskier’s waist and lower back, he shivered. This was really happening. But he wasn’t ready to concede yet.

“The legends are all true,” said Jaskier airily. He reached for the witcher’s white hair and stroked it. Arranged it casually on the black studded shoulder armor. 

“That’s good to know. A little danger in a man is what I’m looking for,” said Geralt. Geralt had a husky voice on a normal day, so when he lowered it the bass vibrated in a direct path to Jaskier’s dick.

“What are you saying, witcher?” asked Jaskier, feigning ignorance. 

Geralt pressed his forehead against his. “I’m taking you up on your offer.”

“Which offer, Geralt,” said Jaskier. “I’m an exceedingly generous man, after all. I offer you friendship, music, I feed Roach sometimes—“

Geralt grasped Jaskier’s neck with his free hand, and pulled him in closer. He brushed his lips against Jaskier’s just a wisp. Then he sunk into Jaskier, kissing him tenderly and deeply. 

Fucking finally. 

Jaskier sighed into Geralt’s mouth and dropped the room keys.

Geralt purred again. “The one you whispered into my ear when you almost made me fall off of a horse.” Geralt slid his hand down into Jaskier’s trousers and squeezed his bare ass. Jaskier’s body responded enthusiastically. 

“That was weeks ago Geralt. Not that I’m complaining mind you. But what took you so long?” Asked Jaskier.

Geralt became serious. He swiped a hand through the bard’s wispy tousled hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.Then he looked at Jaskier as if he wanted to map out every freckle on his face.

“Because I need you,” he said simply.

His words shocked Jaskier with pleasure. He willed himself to memorize exactly how he was feeling right then, so he’d never lose it. He almost didn’t want to breathe for fear of shattering it. But Geralt was only getting started.

He spoke as he wrapped his strong arms around Jaskier.“I didn’t want to lose you. Our friendship. It would be idiotic to drive away the man who protects me from rabid townsfolk” 

Jaskier laughed. He felt high.Geralt leaned in for a small sweet kiss.

“I couldn’t drive away Roach’s favorite singer.” he said.

“Smart horse,” said Jaskier.

“Or the man who drives away my nightmares,” said Geralt more softly.

Jaskier’s eyes snapped to look at him.“You knew about that?”

“Of course I did. Witcher senses,” shrugged Geralt.

“But.” Sputtered Jaskier. “Then why did you pretend not to?“

“I didn’t want you to stop,” said Geralt.

“I never would,” said Jaskier. And it was the truth. 

“Besides,” continued Geralt with a cheeky twinkle in his eye, “if one of the continent’s’ most renowned lovers offers me pure bliss, I’m not going to proposition him on a rocky ground outdoors.I want a bed. I expect the full treatment.”

“Renowned? Oh stop,” said Jaskier, nodding emphatically as if to say _don’t stop_.

“‘Now I’m going to learn your secrets,” said Geralt.

“You can have them all,” said Jaskier.

He picked up the keys and pulled Geralt into the room, surging to kiss him again,  heated and passionate. He swiped his tongue between the witcher’s pliant lips. He felt Geralt grasping at him and then suddenly Jaskier’s trousers loosen and his pants pooled on the floor. Geralt grasped for Jaskier’s tunic next, stripping it off wildly. His eyes were bright now, his gaze lustful. 

Geralt leaned back to look up and down Jaskier’s naked body. He gave an appreciative whistle. Jaskier blushed with pride.Geralttouched Jaskier’s necklace, then dragged his fingers through the bard’s chest hair, following the trail down until he had almost reached Jaskier’s cock. 

“Wait, wait,” said Jaskier, and began to unfasten Geralt’s armor. While Jaskier undid buttons and straps, Geralt’s hands roamed happily. Jaskier was in the middle of loosening a buckle when he felt Geralt’s hand close around his cock. He gasped, “ok, I’m not going to be able to do that if you…” He gasped again and dropped the buckle.

“Sure you can,” said Geralt. But he had to release Jaskier to lift his arms as the bard stripped him completely.

“Holy fucking hell,” said Jaskier, “you are a vision.”

He pulled Geralt over to the bed pushed him to sit on the edge.Jaskier pulled the witcher’s knees wider and kneeled in front of him,face at the level of his cock. 

“Dear gods,” breathed Jaskier. It was as impressive a cock as he had imagined. And imagined. And imagined again. He rubbed the Geralt’s legs and realized the witcher had goosebumps. 

“Witcher,” he said, as he let his breath fall on Geralt’s cock, feeling more goosebumps raise on his legs. “You want my secret? My secret is just paying attention. For example, what does Geralt of Rivia prefer?” Said Jaskier. “This?”

He grasped Geralt’s cock and stroked it firmly. Geralt hitched in a breath. 

“Or this?” And he stroked more firmly.

Geralt moaned.

“Oh yes, that one then,” said Jaskier. “And what about this?” He reached for Geralt with his hands, rubbing the sensitive areas on his thighs and the flesh just beneath his cock.

Geralt groaned. 

“Even better then.” Said Jaskier and smiled predatorily.

“For a man with such a sweet face, you can look so wicked,” marveled Geralt with ragged breath.

“I have a sweet face?” Asked Jaskier. 

“Fuck. Your lashes alone.” Said Geralt. “And you must know your pouty little lips drive me wild.”

“Well.” Said Jaskier. “Then how would you like to see my sweet pouting lips wrapped around your cock?”

“Fuck,” said Geralt, inhaling sharply. “Angel—“

Geralt’s words turned to garbled nonsense because Jaskier took his cock in deeply and all at once. Geralt dropped his head heavily backwards, sinking his hands into the bed behind his back.

Jaskier relished every sensation, every ridge of Geralt’s cock. There was no delicacy more decadent, no wine more intoxicating.He deftly licked and sucked in turn, allowing himself to groan, even when his mouth was full of cock. He made such filthy noises that Geralt lifted his head to watch. So the bard slurped and sucked while looking at Geralt through his lashes.

“Gods. I’m going to cum just looking at you like that,” said Geralt.

Jaskier hollowed his cheeks and Geralt’s head fell back again.Jaskier bobbed his head in rhythm and when he found a pressure that elicited a more desperate moan from Geralt he repeated it. Jaskier wrapped his hand around the base of Geralt’s cock. He stroked his hands and his lips in tandem, taking direction from the sounds of Geralt’s filthy sighs. Soon, Geralt started to squirm. His cock swirled in Jaskier’s mouth with the movement of his hips. Then he took Jaskier’s head in his hands.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck,” said Geralt.

Jaskier very much enjoyed feeling Geralt’s strong hands holding his head in place, but he pulled off of Geralt’s cock with a pop. Geralt lifted his head and looked at him dazed. Jaskier licked his lips slowly.

“Fuck. Jask, please. Fuck, I’m gonna—“ Geralt gulped. “Please.”

“What I promised to do, dear Geralt, was to fuck you within an inch of your life,” he said.

“And eat me out,” breathed Geralt.

“You remember,” said Jaskier.

“It was memorable,” said Geralt.

“I strive to be memorable,” said Jaskier. He stood up and pushed Geralt back onto the bed in a laying position and crawled up his body.

“There isn’t a single part of you I won’t plunder to find out what brings you pleasure. You’re going to cum like an arrow released from its bow. And you’re going to shout my name when you do it.”

Geralt’s eyes were hazy with lust. “Please, please.” He sounded like he was praying.

As Jaskier spoke, he hovered his body over Geralt, letting his hair, his necklace, his cock lightly whisper onto the witcher’s bare skin. Geralt groped him frantically, threading his fingers in Jaskier’s hair pulling him down for another kiss. Geralt squirmed.Jaskier plundered. He found out that Geralt loved his nipples sucked. That little bites on his hip bones sent shivers through him. That kisses to his collarbone elicited sighs.

“Turn over, darling,” he whispered. 

Geralt’s eyes widened and he squeezed Jaskier’s hand. 

That gesture was nervous. Geralt was nervous. The bard’s heart filled with affection and wonder.He had never seen Geralt like this. 

Could witchers look…precious?

Geralt settled on his stomach and Jaskier drank in his form.His solid frame. His scars, some shiny and old. Some pink and new.He ran his fingers down them.He kissed them. Stroked the dip of his lower back.Jaskier bet he could nap there comfortably on another day. Not now. He was busy now. 

He found some oil without much trouble from the side table and slicked his hands. He dripped it over Geralt’s back, ass, and the backs of his legs. He rubbed circles on Geralt from his shoulders to his back to his round muscular ass.Jaskier’s mouth was watering. 

“Did you know that you have the most spectacular ass on the continent,” asked Jaskier.

Geralt only answered with a hmmmm. (*whatever you say just don’t stop doing that).

Jaskier massaged more deeply and Geralt sighed and huffed. Jaskier thumbed the cleft of Geralt’s ass and the witcher seemed entirely relaxed, like warm butter.So Jaskier gently but firmly started to lift Geralt’s hips from the bed. He felt the witcher tense. So Jaskier stopped and pulled himself up to the witcher’s ear and asked,

“What would you like, darling?”

“I want to. I want you. Just, try again,” breathed Geralt.

“Your wish is my command,” said Jaskier.

This time Geralt allowed himself to be moved without tension. So Jaskier lifted Geralt’s hips until the witcher was on his knees and elbows.Jaskier sat behind Geralt and squeezed his thighs. Geralt looked sinfully enticing like that.Offered to him like a banquet. Like a gift. What had he ever done to deserve this?

“Bloody hell,” said Jaskier. “Is all this for me, love?”

Jaskier peeked to see his face. Geralt was smiling, and he nodded shyly. The sweetness of it squeezed Jaskiers heart. He felt...honored. And wildly aroused. Well, he wasn’t going to waste this chance.  


So Jaskier gripped each side of Geralt’s ass and parted him just enough. Just enough to allow him to drag his tongue from the base of Geralt’s cock up to the cleft of his ass. Right down the center into the heat and musk of him.

“Oh gods,” erupted from Geralt. He sounded full of want. 

“So that’s a yes?” Teased Jaskier and peeked again at Geralt who swallowed and nodded quickly into the mattress.

“Good darling, good.” Jaskier kept squeezing his ass open for him, and attacked him with his tongue.He slurped and kissed until Geralt squirmed in ecstasy and grasped at the sheets with frantic hands. Jaskier licked and swirled around Geralt’s opening. He felt it when Geralt surrendered. He pressed in his tongue and thrust, almost lapping.Like a cat with cream.

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock now, Geralt.” Cooed Jaskier.He squeezed and thumbed Geralt’s cheeks, then massaged his hole delicately with his thumb. 

“Ready sweet witcher?” Asked Jaskier.

“Yes, yes, Jaskier, yes,” said Geralt half into the mattress.

Jaskier rubbed more oil on his fingers and coated his cock.Then he slipped one finger inside Geralt. He felt Geralt clutch him, then relax. Jaskier slid in to his second knuckle. He pressed in circles until Geralt cried out.Yes. That was the spot.He put in a second then a third finger and massaged, listening intently to Geralt’s needy whining. 

“Please. I’m ready,” panted Geralt. “Jask, I’m ready.”

“Onto your back then,” directed Jaskier.

Geralt turned and plopped onto his back.

Jaskier smirked. He felt proud. The witcher’s cock was straining and leaking.He looked wanton and wrecked. Because of him.

Jaskier hooked his hands around Geralt’s thighs and hitched them up and apart. He pushed a finger into Geralt again. This time Geralt eyes softened and his thick thighs fell open. 

“Oh yes, your needy little hole is ready for me.” said Jaskier. “You love this don’t you, Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, eyes squeezed shut now.

“Good.” Said Jaskier. “Because you are going to look absolutely stunning stuffed with my cock.” As Jaskier spoke, he lined up his cock and thrust slowly into Geralt’s hot tightness. Geralt’s face slackened. He whimpered. 

Yes.Witchers could look precious. Gods they could look precious.

Jaskier gasped and had to restrain himself mightily to thrust slowly enough. He inched into the exquisite clutch of the witcher. His witcher. Geralt’s eyes were rolling back.

“Look at me Geralt,” said Jaskier, grasping Geralt’s chin in his hand and pointing his face towards him.

Geralt keened and looked back at him. His mouth dropped into an o as Jaskier finished thrusting in completely buried.

“How does that feel, darling” murmured Jaskier fully seated and stroking Geralt’s cheek with the back of his hand.

Jaskier leaned down and kissed Geralt’s mouth, which was still open and now panting.

“You feel, so good.” Said Geralt. He was clutching Jaskier’s arms, his pupils blown. His irises just golden rings. “So. Hard. Fuck. So. Deep.’ His voice strained.

“Just breathe.” Said Jaskier, and he continued stroking Geralt’s cheek. Geralt breathed. Then he breathed again. “You’re doing so well for me.” Jaskier whispered as he caressed the Witcher’s face. “You look incredible like this. Just relax, dearheart.”  


Geralt’s eyes shone. Jaskier felt him relax on his cock. Then Geralt grasped Jaskier’s ass and pulled him in tighter. Deeper.

Jaskier smiled wickedly.

“Catching on quick are we?”

“Fuck me,” begged Geralt.

Jaskier’s eyebrows cocked. He began rocking slowly and deliberately. Geralt squeezed his ass and his hips hard. He was leaving bruises Jaskier knew. He hoped Geralt would press them deeply so that they took weeks to disappear. 

Jaskier pulled out his entire length and thrust in hard while lifting his hips angling himself so that his cock pressed down into the thrust. Geralt’s eyes widened. He was trying to speak but losing all sense. 

Jaskier set a more punishing pace, relishing every raspy grunt he punched from Geralt. He snapped into him harder and harder. Allowing everything to fall away but the hot enveloping silken crush of Geralt around his cock. The building buzz in his body. The way Geralt looked at him, overwhelmed and flooded with sensation.  


Geralt reached and grasped the headboard with both hands. He braced himself, pushing forward against Jaskiers hips so that the bard shoved in deeper. Geralt held tighter and shoved harder until the headboard splintered. Neither of them noticed. Geralt grabbed the sides of the bed instead and Jaskier gripped Geralt's waist.  


As the sounds of slaps echoed in the bare room, Jaskier reached down and curled his hand around Geralt’s cock.Geralt choked out a louder moan.

“Let them hear you,” said Jaskier, as he began to stroke and squeeze Geralt’s cock in time with his thrusts. “When you cum, I want you to say my name. Tell everyone listening who’s cock you’re cumming on.”

Soon Geralt tensed his body and swallowed hard.

“Oh fuck. Fuck.”

“Yes darling,” said Jaskier. “Now cum.”

“Jaskier,” fell from Geralt’s lips with a noise that sounded like a sob. He spattered Jaskier’s hand and his stomach with his cum.

That undid Jaskier’s tenuous control. He felt heat pooling in his stomach. Jaskiershoved deep inside his witcher to cum with a shout. He saw white. He felt nothing else but Geralt’s tightness and his release. It was a religious experience cumming inside Geralt of Rivia, praise Melitele.

Jaskier pulled out delicately and lowered Geralt’s thighs back to the bed. They were trembling, so he stroked them firmly a few times. He bent down to plant a kiss on Geralt’s stomach, then between his pecs, nuzzling the hair on his chest. Geralt was panting and his hair was sticking to his neck.

You know, said Jaskier, “You look even more sculpted when you’re sweaty. It’s criminal,” said Jaskier.

“Fuck,” said Geralt.

Then Jaskier dropped back onto the bed next to Geralt. They laid side by side.

“How are you darling?” Asked Jaskier.

“Amazing.” Said Geralt. “That was amazing.” He inhaled long and exhaled hard, and turned on his side to face Jaskier. Jaskier luxuriated in the feeling of their naked bodies lying together. Geralt rubbed Jaskier’s sweaty chest. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” said Jaskier.

“What were you waiting for?” Asked Geralt, and gave him a sweaty, blissful kiss.

“You know what? For the life of me? I can’t fucking remember.” Said Jaskier.

In that moment they both realized something. 

Jaskier realized that it was never the travel or adventure that had made him feel like he was truly living. It was being with Geralt.

Geralt pulled him in for a tight squeezing hug and realized something too. 

“I love you, bard.” There was tenderness and awe in his voice.

Jaskier melted into his arms.

“I love you too, witcher.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write my version of them falling in love, caring for and protecting each other, and eager but vulnerable bottom!Geralt with tender attentive top!Jaskier. I hope you enjoyed. Subscribe to my profile for more stories from me.
> 
> You can also talk to me on tumblr or Twitter.  
> Twitter: @BuffySummers10  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fangirleaconmigo
> 
> Also thank you Mandi for your feedback and patience. This one was a bear and I was a neurotic pain in the ass. You're a saint my friend.


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